Lakhoni (19 page)

A
few seconds passed. She took another step, then stopped. “Typical.”

He
could see the disappointment in the set of her shoulders. “What?”

“It’s
typical, that’s all.” Now she turned so he could see her face. “The first words
you say to me are an apology. Because you lied. It shouldn’t be a surprise.”

He
heard the anger in her voice, but there was more than that in her face. Pain in
her eyes and mouth.

“Simra,
I . . .” he had no idea what to say. “I’m not a Usurper.”

“I
know that,” Simra said, her voice tight with anger.

“I
don’t . . . I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Nobody
ever does.” Moisture glinted at the edges of her eyes, but she appeared to will
it away. “You’re no different.”

Something
in the way she said that pierced him. He wanted to be different, although he
didn’t understand what she meant.

“Will
you at least tell me why you hid that you got your voice back?”

Lakhoni’s
throat tightened. He wanted to make her feel better, wanted to figure out what
to say or do that would work. But he had no idea what that might be. Finally,
he met her gaze and nodded. “It’s because I was worried I would have to talk
more about what happened to my family. And why I’m here.”

Simra
tilted her head to the side for a moment, her eyes searching his face. “Good
start,” she said. She waited.

“And . . .
I just don’t want to put anybody in danger. What happened to my family and
village . . . it could happen here too.”

“Is
that really why?”

He
considered for a moment. “Mostly.”

Her
eyes widened in surprise. He was sure she was going to leave, furious with the
way he kept things to himself.

Instead
she lowered herself to her knees. “Another good answer. Can you tell me the
rest?”

He
stared at her for a long moment, trying to figure her out.
I guess honesty.
Honesty even if I don’t tell her everything. And I tell her when I’m not
telling her everything.

“Eat
before it gets cold,” Simra said.

He
glanced down and automatically took a bite of the meat. “There is more, but I
don’t feel right talking about it. I think . . . I think it
might put you and your village in danger.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“And
you didn’t tell me you could talk because . . .”

Hadn’t
he already explained this part? “Because talking is faster than writing. When I
write, I can control our conversations better.”
And because there are other
words I fear to tell you.

“Fathers
curse you,” she swore. She looked down at her hands, which were folded in her
lap. “When you get honest, you really do it right.”

He
decided that was a good thing. He leaned forward, scooting out from the wall a
little. “And, the truth is also that . . . I still don’t like to
remember what happened.”

She
glanced over her shoulder at the door, then leaned forward on her hands and
moved closer, dropping her volume. “But maybe I can help you with whatever
you’re trying to do. Find your sister, I mean.” Their eyes locked. Moments
passed, measured in heartbeats. “I’d like to help.”

She
meant it. He took a moment to watch the door, then moved closer to her, not
wanting anybody outside to hear. “I don’t think that would be a good idea. I
think the people who . . . who took her were Zyron’s warriors. I
think she’s in Zyronilxa.”

“King
Zyron?” Simra sat taller, tension in her body. “You think your sister is a
captive of the king?” At least she’d had the presence of mind to whisper,
although it had been a harsh whisper.

“I
think so.”

“Why?”

“They
left me and everyone else for dead.” Lakhoni inwardly flinched as memories of
his murdered family and friends struck him. “She wasn’t there.”

Simra’s
expression softened somewhat. “You looked for her?”

He
nodded, tears threatening to spill. He cleared his throat and stared at the hut
floor. “If she had escaped, she would have come back when it was safe.” Lakhoni
looked into Simra’s deep, dark eyes. “They have her.” His mouth dry, he
clumsily took another bite of food. He still meant to get away this night; he
would need plenty of food in him.

“And
you think you can rescue her from the king’s city?” Simra asked.

“I
don’t know. But she’s my sister.”

The
simple statement put an end to Simra’s questions. The final tension slid out of
her body. As she slid from her kneeling position to sit on the ground, Lakhoni
realized that in their desire to keep their conversation quiet, they had moved
quite close to each other.

He
jabbed at the next piece of meat to hide his discomfort.

“It’s
already dead,” Simra said.

“Are
you sure?” he said. “I thought it moved.”

“Positive.”

The
air between them grew thicker after she spoke. He wanted to look up from his
plate, knew it would be strange if he just kept staring at his food. He forced
himself to raise his head and found her eyes.

“Lakhoni,”
she said. “I’m sorry about your family. I wish I could help you find your
sister.”

“Alronna,”
he said. He couldn’t tear his eyes from hers. His heart thundered in his chest.
He had to push it away. He couldn’t let Simra, or how he felt, slow him down.
He had to move.

“What?”

“Her
name is Alronna.”

“Oh.”

He
tried to find his center, but he was talking before he could stop himself.
“Simra, I . . . you . . . I mean, you’re the
most . . .”

“Please
don’t say it,” Simra said.

“Don’t
say what?”

“Just . . .
boys tell me I’m the most beautiful girl they’ve ever seen. But all they want
is a woman. To keep the hut, to scrape their hides. To . . .”
she looked down.

In
that moment, Lakhoni understood her self-doubt and her directness. He finally
saw why she felt uncomfortable so often and the conflict he had seen in her
made sense. He set his plate aside. It took all of his courage, but, holding
his breath, he reached out and took her hand.

“I
was going to say that you’re the most unusual, giving person I’ve ever known.” He
didn’t know where the words came from, but their shape was right.

In
a heartbeat, her reddish-brown eyes filled his vision.

“You
are beautiful, but not just on the outside.” He swallowed. “You could never
just be someone’s woman. You would be a companion. A help meet.”

Simra
blinked. She squeezed his hand and stared hard at him.

The
moment lengthened.

“Lakhoni,”
she said. “You . . .” Suddenly she broke into a wide smile. It
set his heart to thundering. “You have a way with words.”

He
could think of nothing to say. If she hadn’t been squeezing his hand so hard,
he would have been trembling with the emotion that her smile and touch awoke in
him. He knew, as her eyes grew bigger and a force both outside and inside of
him pushed him closer to her, that he had to get away from her village. Rescue
his sister. He had to get away from her.

His
heart stopped as her eyes filled his vision completely. Soft warmth touched his
lips. She filled every sense with sweetness.

The
world dissolved.

Simra
broke away first, pulling back from the kiss with a deep breath. Her eyes
lingered on his for a moment, then dropped. “That . . . I don’t
know . . .”

Thoughts
roiled in Lakhoni’s head. Her name kept flashing through his mind, as if it
were an anchor his brain was trying to grasp hold of.
I can’t leave her.
But
he had to get to Alronna. She had to still be alive. Even as he wanted to kiss
Simra again, he knew he had to fight the urge. He was going to have to leave
her. He didn’t want to make it harder.

“I
know you have to go,” Simra said, her face in shadow.

“I . . .”
Lakhoni didn’t think he had the courage to say the words himself. How could he
do this to her? Suddenly ashamed of himself, he looked to the ground. The
sounds of activity outside returned as he searched for what to say. “I’m
sorry.” He knew it wasn’t enough.

“No,”
Simra said. “I’m sorry. I should not have  . . .”

Silence
fell again. Lakhoni’s thoughts raced. He couldn’t lose focus; he had to get out
of the village before Mibli did something serious. The longer he stayed, the
harder it would be to go. But now there was Simra.

He
shifted backward, his eyes flicking all over the hut, nervous about looking at
Simra’s face. Now there was Simra. His family and village murdered. Alronna
taken. Months with the Separated. The terrible winter. And because of it all,
there was Simra. Why?

Why
would the Great Spirit set him on a path of justice and grief only to have that
path end with . . . this?
With Simra. But it can’t be over. I
have to find Alronna. And I have to get them . . . show them
that they can’t get away with murder.

He
had to leave her.

Lakhoni
leaned forward, tight energy building in his chest. He took Simra’s hand.

But
he would come back. He would survive and return to her.

“Simra,”
he said, his voice soft.

The
shadows in the hut had grown as night fell. As he waited for her to look up at
him, he noticed gold and orange flickering on the walls of the hut. The cook
fire had been built up; its light was squeezing through the cracks around the
door.

The
door. The guard.

“You’ve
been in here a while,” Lakhoni said.

She
nodded. She raised her right hand, the one he wasn’t gripping, to her face and
scrubbed.

He
hadn’t seen the tears falling. A tight ache squeezed his throat, anguish
filling his soul. What had he done? Impulsively, he rocked forward and knelt
next to her, wrapping his arms around her. “I don’t know what to say—or feel.
I . . .” He searched for the words. “I
know . . .” He cleared his throat, trying to push the tightness
away. “I have to go, and I know I—” He trailed off.

He
pulled her close; she leaned on his chest.

He
could say no more.

“It’s
my fault too.” Her voice was muffled.

“I
don’t want to hurt you,” he said.

She
shook her head against him. “It doesn’t matter. You have to go tonight.”

Surprised,
he dropped his arms and moved to a crouch. “Why?”

“Because
you can’t stay. Mibli wants his control and after their fight and what he said,
the village is worried. He’ll torture you until you’ll say anything. He’s
convinced you’re a Usurper.” Simra looked up, eyes and face dry.

“I
was going to leave tonight anyway,” Lakhoni said, reaching under his blanket
and pulling out his bag.

“Good.
If Mibli decides you’re a spy, he’s likely to send you to the brick fields,”
Simra said.

“Brick
fields?” Lakhoni asked.

She
shook her head and stood. “It doesn’t matter. We’ve been alone in here long
enough to raise all kinds of suspicion.”

“What
are the brick fields?” He saw an image of wide swaths of pasture that were
filled with oven-baked clay tiles instead of green grass.

“Slave
labor, basically,” Simra said. “I have to go. Finish your dinner.”

He
stood and grabbed her wrist, a sudden need that he couldn’t deny overtaking
him. He pulled her close and kissed her again.
This is wrong.
But it wasn’t.
Everything else was muffled—all his worries and his illness. All the fear of
life with the Separated. It all went away with the touch of her lips.

She
pushed away after a moment. “There’s no time. Finish getting ready. Listen for
the cry of a nightwing in a few hours.”

Confused,
he asked, “What are you going to do?”

“I’ll
get the guard away from the door. When you hear the nightwing, go out and turn
right and go behind the hut. Find two trees that are twisted into one about a
hundred paces north of the village. I will meet you there.” She turned, and
with the soft whisper of her dress against the stones of the doorway, she was
gone.

Lakhoni
stood still for a moment, a thick, confused fear beginning to well up in him.
“What’s a nightwing?” he asked in a quiet voice. He turned to his bag and
hefted it, then opened it to see how much space he had left. He considered
rolling the blanket up tightly and stuffing it in the bag too.

No,
he wouldn’t steal from the village.

She
will meet me there?
Why would Simra meet him at the trees? Was she gathering supplies for his
journey? Or was she planning to go with him?

His
earlier fear grew into a cloying, stifling sensation. She couldn’t come. He
couldn’t take her to Zyronilxa, where he planned to kill the king. She would be
killed or worse. He would not put her in danger. She had to stay behind.

But
maybe she would just have supplies for him.

A
nightwing. What was that? An image of a sleek, strong bird with a wingspan as
wide as he was tall came to him. Maybe she meant the whisperwing. It only came
out at night and it could carry off a month-old puppy if it was hungry enough.
Its wings were usually dark. That had to be it.

He
stood again, moving to the door and peering through the gap between the door
and the wall. The noises he had been hearing for some time now were matched by
the activity around the fire. Some hunters must have returned at some point,
because Lakhoni saw a haunch of what must have been a wild boar roasting over
the fire.

The
smell came to him, but he was too worried to be hungry.

He
paced in the hut for a few minutes, digging through his memories to form a
picture of how close he might be to Zyronilxa. A long, low whistle sounded,
like the wind singing through the caves he had explored with Lamorun and his
father.

That
was Simra’s signal.